After The Match
by wrestlefan4
Summary: Oneshot. Bret Hart/The British Bulldog Davey Boy Smith.


_A/N: Takes place 1992 Summer Slam._

They were sweaty from their match up, much hyped with the thread of family tension and split. There was anything but, in reality, and as they moved tiredly towards their locker room, they patted each others backs. They smiled to one another without any words having to be exchanged they knew that the other was pleased. That match had been gold, a piece of artwork, and to think Bret had been a bit worried about it all along. He and Davey hadn't really worked together, but he should have trusted the skill of his brother-in-law rather than being anxious. But that was just Bret's way, he wanted things to be exact in the ring, and he wanted his opponents to make him look as good as he made them look. He and Davey both complimented each other, not a beat off, a near perfect match, and it made Bret shiver and grin with pride as the sweat dripped down the sides of his face and wetted his long, curling hair to his neck.

Davey's big hand rested at the nape, giving a quick rub to the muscles there. He situated the IC title on his shoulder, and Bret smiled over at it, proud to see the gold resting with a deserving opponent.

He and Bret disappeared into the locker room, Bret slipping the pink and black straps of his suit down, letting the top peel away from his waist and hang down over his hips. His torso was bare, the muscled bodyscape glistening with the sweat of hard work and a well executed match. Davey watched him as he propped one foot onto a metal chair, and began to work the laces loose from his boots.

"Bret, can I ask something of you?" Davey asked, his accent lightly touching the words.

Bret looked up from his boot.

"Yeah, 'course Davey. Shoot."

Davey worried his lip for a moment, wondering if he really should ruin the moment by bringing up a topic that was sure to make Bret do more than bristle.

"Are you happy, Bret?"

Bret cocked his head at Davey, blinking.

"Of course Davey, of course I'm happy for you. The gold looks good on ya!"

"Oh no, I don't mean the gold Bret. What I mean is, I've noticed this…_conflict_ behind your eyes." Davey watched said dark eyes as they tried to understand.

"I'm not following you." Bret said, glancing away. _Maybe he was, but didn't want to be led in that direction._

Davey moved towards Bret, and took a piece of his sweat dampened hair between his fingers, and twirled it.

"The way you look at…Shawn." Davey finally said the name—_that_ name.

Bret's eyes flashed, and he jerked away.

"What? I don't look at Shawn in any way, Davey. You _know_ how I feel about that—that—fag!"

"That's what I mean Bret, I think I do. I mean _really_ do. You don't just hate him, do you?"

"I don't know what you mean." Bret defended, his words snapping, the harshness and vigor with which they were spat telling Davey what he needed to know.

"You shouldn't be so uptight about it, Bret. It's the 90's and you shouldn't let the way people think come between you, if you have desires you need to explore. You shouldn't hide yourself Bret, to be someone everyone else wants. That's why I asked you if you're happy, because I see you hiding, and Bret I'm family…not one of the Hart twelve, but I am family and I care for you."

Bret was quiet for a few moments. His boot was forgotten, the laces drooping. Davey touched his face.

"You don't feel like you can explore those things with Shawn, Shawn's too risky, isn't he? I just want you to know that I'm not. I'm safe Bret, I can help you come to terms with yourself, or at least peek into that side, and you know I would never, _ever_ breathe a word of it." Davey's eyes caught Bret's, and locked them there. There was a naked kind of truth in them, one that told Bret that he could trust Davey to be loyal to his word. Bret licked his lips, watching Davey's as they curved slightly into a smile. He wondered how Davey knew, and that gave him a little prickle of fear that others might _know._ "Quit thinking so much, Bret."

Davey pressed his lips to Bret's, softly sealing them and allowing Bret to reject or accept them. After a few hesitant moments, Bret's lips moved against his. They were slow and timid, but they didn't stop or pull away. They parted slightly, Bret's tongue flicking out to taste Davey's lips, and then nudge them apart. His hands slid one to the back of Davey's neck, the other to the back of his head, and pressed their mouths together tighter. Tongues slipped and suckled between opened mouths, as Bret's fingers moved over the braids woven tightly against Davey's scalp, down to the long tails that hung down his back. The beads at the ends clicked together softly. Between them, mutual responses began to be aroused, and Bret began to pant into the kiss, his dried brow re-wetting with a new sheen of sweat.

Davey moved down Bret's body, slithering and rubbing against it in a way that had Bret staring at him in a kind of awe. His lips were parted, swollen from the wonderful, long kiss, and Davey was on his knees. His fingers hooked Bret's gear and inched it down a little. He nuzzled against hard flesh that prodded the pink and black material tight. Bret's fingers grasped at Davey's braids, his eyes closed, head tossed back.

"Oh Davey, D-Davey…I…I don't know…"

"Ssh." Davey pressed his fingers against the bulge in Bret's tights, finding the head of his erection and rubbing it. Bret moaned, the sound deep and needful, filling the room with a desire too long oppressed. "It's ok Bret, I promise…let me show you how good it could be."

Davey tilted his face up, looking into Bret's clouded eyes, dark hair spilling over his handsome features. Bret nodded his head.

"Yeah Davey, show me, just this once…how it could be."

Davey bent his head back towards the part of Bret that need his attention. His tongue pressed against the outline of the responsive organ, and moved the fabric up and down the shaft, his saliva and Bret's excitement eventually making it wet and sticky. Beautiful sounds spilled from Bret's lips, even when the groans and whispery curses were silenced, his ragged breathing took their place. Davey tugged the spandex material away from Bret's waist, and down his thighs. The eager erection bobbed up against Bret's belly, leaking from the pleasure Davey had already lavished upon Bret's body. He grasped the shaft and sucked the head into his mouth, rolling his tongue, working it sensually around the thick end, tasting the leak. Little by little all of it disappeared into Davey's throat and mouth. His hands rested on Bret's bared hips, urging them to move, as Davey sucked.

Bret's peak rocketed through him, and spilled down Davey's throat and filled his mouth. Bret pulled away, moved back on wobbly legs, and sat down on the metal chair he'd been unlacing his boot on just moments ago. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and watched Davey swallow and lick his lips.

Davey got back up to his feet.

"So Bret…did it help?"

Bret pushed his hair out of his face, and let it fall over his shoulders.

"I don't know Davey. I really don't know." Bret sighed.

Davey moved closer, telling himself that he had done the right thing. Even if Bret didn't realize, he had a look of contentment on his face that spoke volumes more than his unsure words.

"Did you enjoy it?" Davey asked, as Bret got up from the chair, and propped his foot back onto the seat, going after that boot again. "Did you?"

Bret stopped, the unlacing interrupted for the second time. He reached up and swiped his fingers over Davey's lips, smearing away a pearly smudge that Davey's tongue had missed.

"I think you know the answer to that." Bret smiled. "And thank you."

Davey gave Bret's shoulder a squeeze.

"Maybe next time, you'll have the lips around you that you really want."

"Davey, don't push it." Bret tugged off his boot, and threw it at his brother-in-law. Both of them laughed, and Bret chased Davey as he headed for the stalls. The metal door slammed behind him, and Davey's laughter filled the room as Bret banged on the door. Davey emerged moments later, and Bret ducked into the stall, shaking his head when he saw his boot wedged into the toilet bowl.

"Damn it Davey!" Bret called over his shoulder, as he reached into the water reluctantly, and tugged at the stuck boot. "You've been hanging around Owen too long!"

Bret got his boot free, and let it drip over the bowl. He couldn't help but smile widely, truly happier than he had felt for quite some time. Davey was the best.


End file.
